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Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law.
Marshalling all his terrors as he came, Thunder, and earthquake, and devouring flame, From Sinai's top Jehovah gave
the law, Life for obedience, death for every flaw. When the great Sovereign would his will express He gives a perfect rule, what can He less ? And guards it with a sanction as severe As vengeance can inflict, or sinners fear: Else his own glorious rights He would disclaim, And man might safely trifle with his name. He bids him glow with unremitting love To all on Earth, and to himself above; Condemns the injurious deed, the slanderous
tongue, The thought that meditates a brother's wrong: Brings not alone the more conspicuous part, His conduct, to the test, but tries his heart.
Hark! universal nature shook and groan’d,
Twas the last trumpet-see the Judge enthroned
All joy to the believer! He can speak-
Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot, And cut up all my follies by the root, I never trusted in an arm but thine, Nor hoped, but in thy righteousness divine: My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled, Were but the feeble efforts of a child; Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part, That they proceeded from a grateful heart: Cleansed in thine own all-purifying blood, Forgive their evil, and accept their good : I cast them at thy feet-my only plea Is what it was, dependence upon Thee: While struggling in the vale of tears below, That never faild, nor shall it fail me now. Angelic gratulations rend the skies, Pride falls unpitied, never more to rise, Humility is crown'd, and Faith receives the prize,
Tantane, tam patiens, nullo certamine tolli
Wur weeps the muse for England ? What
appears In England's case to move the muse to tears? From side to side of her delightful isle Is she not clothed with a perpetual smile? Can Nature add a charm, or Art confer A new found luxury, not seen in her? Where under heaven is pleasure more pursued, Or where does cold reflection less intrude? Her fields a rich expanse of wavy corn, Pour'd out from Plenty's overflowing horn; Ambrosial gardens, in which art supplies The fervour and the force of Indian skies; Her peaceful shores, where busy Commerce waite To pour his golden tide through all her gates; Whom fiery suns, that scorch the russet spice Of eastern groves, and oceans floor’d with ice Forbid in vain to push his daring way To darker climes, or climes of brighter day; Whom the winds waft where'er the billows roll, From the world's girdle to the frozen pole; The chariots bounding in her wheel-worn streets, Her vaults below, where every vintage meets ;
Her theatres, her revels, and her sports ;
for England? What appears In England's case to move the muse to tears ?
The prophet wept for Israel; wish'd his eyes Were fountains fed with infinite supplies ; For Israel dealt in robbery and wrong; (tongue; There were the scorner's and the slanderer's Oaths, used as playthings or convenient tools, As interest bias'd knaves, or fashion fools ; Adultery, neighing at his neighbour's door; Oppression, labouring hard to grind the poor ; The partial balance and deceitful weight; The treacherous smile, a mask for secret hate ; Hypocrisy, formality in prayer, And the dull service of the lip were there. Her women, insolent and self-caressed, By vanity's unwearied finger dress'd, Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart To modest cheeks, and borrow'd one from art; Were just such trifles, without worth or use, As silly pride and idleness produce ; Curl'd, scented, furbelow'd, and flounced around, With feet too delicate to touch the ground,
They stretch'd the neck, a id rolld the wanton eye And sigh'd for every
fool that flutter'd by. He saw his people slaves to every lust, Lewd, avaricious, arrogant, unjust; He heard the wheels of an avenging God Groan heavily along the distant road; Saw Babylon set wide her two-leaved brass To let the military deluge pass ; Jerusalem a prey, her glory soil'd, Her princes captive, and her treasures spoil'd ; Wept till all Israel heard his bitter cry, Stamp'd with his foot, and smote upon his thigh ; But wept, and stamp'd, and smote his thigh in vain, Pleasure is deaf when told of future pain, And sounds prophetic are too rough to suit Ears long accustom’d to the pleasing lute: They scorn'd his inspiration and his theme, Pronounced him frantic, and his fears a dream; With self-indulgence wing'd the fleeting hours, Till the foe found them, and down fell the towers
Long time Assyria bound them in her chain,